Depression
by SNikkiP
Summary: Set during NM when Edward leaves. Bella takes his leaving very hard & begins to cut herself. When Charlie can't "cure" her at home, he send her to rehab. Is there anyone that can pull her out of her depression?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 01**

Excerpt from "New Moon" Ch. 3 The End, Pg. 68-74

He took a deep breath.

"Bella, we're leaving."

I took a deep breath, too. This was an acceptable option. I thought I was prepared. But I still had to ask.

"Why now? Another year - "

"Bella, it's time. How much longer could we stay in Forks, after all? Carlisle can barely pass for thirty, and he's claiming thirty-three now. We'd have to start over soon regardless."

His answer confused me. I thought the point of leaving was to let his family live in peace. Why did we have to leave if they were going? I stared at him, trying to understand what he meant.

He stared back coldly.

With a roll of nausea, I realized I'd misunderstood.

"When you say _we _- ," I whispered.

"I mean my family and myself." Each word separate and distinct.

I shook my head back and forth mechanically, trying to clear it. He waited without any sign of impatience. It took a few minutes before I could speak.

"Okay," I said. "I'll come with you."

"You can't, Bella. Where we're going . . . It's not the right place for you."

"Where you are is the right place for me."

"I'm no good for you, Bella."

"Don't be ridiculous." I wanted to sound angry, but it just sounded like I was begging. "You're the very best part of my life."

"My world is not for you," he said grimly.

"What happened with Jasper - that was nothing, Edward! Nothing!"

"You're right," he agreed. "It was exactly what was to be expected."

"You promised! In Phoenix, you promised that you would stay - "

"As long as that was best for you," he interrupted to correct me.

"_No!_ This is about my soul, isn't it?" I shouted, furious, the words exploding out of me - somehow it still sounded like a plea. "Carlisle told me about that, and I don't care, Edward. I don't care! You can have my soul. I don't want it without you - it's yours already!"

He took a deep breath and stared, unseeingly, at the ground for a long moment. His mouth twisted the tiniest bit. When he finally looked up, his eyes were different, harder - like the liquid gold had frozen solid.

"Bella, I don't want you to come with me." He spoke the words slowly and precisely, his cold eyes on my face, watching as I absorbed what he was really saying.

There was a pause as I repeated the words in my head a few times, sifting through them for their real intent.

"You . . . don't . . . want me?" I tried out the words, confused by the way they sounded, placed in that order.

"No."

I stared, uncomprehending, into his eyes. He stared back without apology. His eyes were like topaz - hard and clear and very deep. I felt like I could see into them for miles and miles, yet nowhere in their bottomless depths could I see a contradiction to the word he'd spoken.

"Well, that changes things." I was surprised by how calm and reasonable my voice sounded. It must be because I was so numb. I couldn't realize what he was telling me. It still didn't make any sense.

He looked away into the trees as he spoke again. "Of course, I'll always love you . . . in a way. But what happened the other night made me realize that it's time for a change. Because I'm . . . _tired _of pretending to be something I'm not, Bella. I am not human." He looked back, and the icy planes of his perfect face were _not_ human. "I've let this go on much too long, and I'm sorry for that."

"Don't." My voice was just a whisper now; awareness was beginning to seep through me, trickling like acid through my veins. "Don't do this."

He just stared at me, and I could see from his eyes that my words were far too late. He already had.

"You're not good for me, Bella." He turned his earlier words around, and so I had no argument. How well I knew that I wasn't good enough for him.

I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it again. He waited patiently, his face wiped clean of all emotion. I tried again.

"If . . . that's what you want."

He nodded once.

My whole body went numb. I couldn't feel anything below the neck.

"I would like to ask one favor, though, if that's not too much," he said.

I wonder what he saw on my face, because something flickered across his own face in response. But, before I could identify it, he'd composed his features into the same serene mask.

"Anything," I vowed, my voice faintly stronger.

As I watched, his frozen eyes melted. The gold became liquid again, molten, burning down into mine with an intensity that was overwhelming.

"Don't do anything reckless or stupid," he ordered, no longer detached. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nodded helplessly.

His eyes cooled, the distance returned. "I'm thinking of Charlie, of course. He needs you. Take care of yourself - for him."

I nodded again. "I will," I whispered.

He seemed to relax just a little.

"And I'll make you a promise in return," he said. "I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I'd never existed."

My knees must have started to shake, because the trees were suddenly wobbling. I could hear the blood pounding faster than normal behind my ears. His voice sounded farther away.

He smiled gently. "Don't worry. You're human - your memory is no more than a sieve. Time heals all wounds for your kind."

"And your memories?" I asked. It sounded like there was something stuck in my throat, like I was choking.

"Well" - he hesitated for a short second - "I won't forget. But _my_ kind . . . we're very easily distracted." He smiled; the smile was tranquil and it did not touch his eyes.

He took a step away from me. "That's everything, I suppose. We won't bother you again."

The plural caught my attention. That surprised me; I would have thought I was beyond noticing anything.

"Alice isn't coming back," I realized. I don't know how he heard me - the words made no sound - but he seemed to understand.

He shook his head slowly, always watching my face.

"No. They're all gone. I stayed behind to tell you goodbye."

"Alice is gone?" My voice was blank with disbelief.

"She wanted to say goodbye, but I convinced her that a clean break would be better for you."

I was dizzy; it was hard to concentrate. His words swirled around in my head, and I heard the doctor at the hospital in Phoenix, last spring, as he showed me the X-rays. _You can see it's a clean break,_ his finger traced along the picture of my severed bone. _That's good. It will heal more easily, more quickly._

I tried to breath normally. I needed to concentrate, to find a way out of this nightmare.

"Goodbye, Bella," he said in the same quiet, peaceful voice.

"Wait!" I choked out the word, reaching for him, willing my deadened legs to carry me forward.

I thought he was reaching for me, too. But his cold hands locked around my wrists and pinned them to my sides. He leaned down, and pressed his lips very lightly to my forehead for the briefest instant. My eyes closed.

"Take care of yourself," he breathed, cool against my skin.

There was a light, unnatural breeze. My eyes flashed open. The leaves on a small vine maple shuddered with the gentle wind of his passage.

He was gone.

With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I followed him into the forest. The evidence of his path had disappeared instantly. There were no footprints, the leaves were still again, but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him, it was over.

Love, life, meaning . . . over.

I walked and walked. Time made no sense as I pushed slowly through the thick undergrowth. It was hours passing, but also only seconds. Maybe it felt like time had frozen because the forest looked the same no matter how far I went. I started to worry that I was traveling in a circle, a very small circle at that, but I kept going. I stumbled often, and, as it grew darker and darker, I fell often, too.

Finally, I tripped over something - it was black now, I had no idea what caught my foot - and I stayed down. I rolled onto my side, so that I could breathe, and curled up on the wet bracken.

As I lay there, I had a feeling that more time was passing than I realized. I couldn't remember how long it had been since nightfall. Was it always so dark here at night? Surely, as a rule, some little bit of moonlight would filter down through the clouds, through the chinks in the canopy of trees, and find the ground.

Not tonight. Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight - a lunar eclipse, a new moon.

A new moon. I shivered, though I wasn't cold.

It was black for a long time before I heard them calling.

Someone was shouting my name. It was muted, muffled by the wet growth that surrounded me, but it was definitely my name. I didn't recognize the voice. I thought about answering, but I was dazed, and it took a long time to come to the conclusion that I _should_ answer. By then, the calling had stopped.

Sometime later, the rain woke me up. I don't think I'd really fallen asleep; I was just lost in an unthinking stupor, holding with all my strength to the numbness that kept me from realizing what I didn't want to know.

The rain bothered me a little. It was cold. I unwrapped my arms from around my legs to cover my face.

End of Excerpt

On the way up to my face, my hand brushed against something hard. I lifted my head to stare down at it. It was a pocket knife, but it was closed. Someone must've dropped it when they were walking through the woods. Still lying on the ground, I picked it up and opened it. I ran the finger along the blade. It was cold to the touch. It felt good to hold the tiny thing in my hand, and an almost comforting feeling swirled deep in the pit of my stomach.

It was like I was on auto-pilot. I don't even think I knew what I was doing in that moment. I placed the sharp side of the blade to my wrist. And then I just stopped. Was I really doing this? I was. Almost of its own free will, the blade drew itself across my wrist, leaving a line across my skin. The blood dribbled down my arm and onto the ground. The rain made the blood run even more until there were watery rivers running along my skin.

It was almost like I couldn't feel the actual pain, but I liked the way it felt just the same. I pressed the blade deeper into the same spot, and the blood ran heavier than before. I liked the way it looked. It was like I was letting all the pain seep out of me, and it felt good. I switched the knife to my other hand, and pressed the blade down hard against my other wrist. I must've cut deeper this time, because the blood gushed out of my wrist in waves. It looked kind of cool to me, and I was starting to feel better by the second, so I made another deep cut in each of my wrists above the first ones. I could no longer see any of my skin on my wrists. It was all red and it was starting to run over my hands. It was almost like I was wearing gloves.

I don't know how long I laid there and watched the blood run out of me. After what seemed like hours, I started to feel weak. I dropped the knife on the ground and laid my head down. I could feel that the blood was still running out of me, but I didn't make a move to watch it anymore, or to stifle the flow. I laid there for a little while longer, until I began to feel a little bit sleepy. I was feeling weaker and weaker.

Who cared if I died? Sure, I'd promised him I wouldn't do anything stupid or reckless. Sure, I'd promised him I'd take care of myself. But he hadn't kept _his _promise to _me_. He's promised to stay with me, and he had left. So why should I care about whether or not the cuts on my arms killed me? It would be a relief to die. I wouldn't have to deal with the emptiness that was already threatening to consume me.

My mind went blank.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 02

**Excerpt from "New Moon" Ch. 3 The End, Pg. 74-75**

**It was then that I heard the calling again. It was farther away this time, and sometimes it sounded like several voices were calling at once. I tried to breathe deeply. I remembered that I should answer, but I didn't think they would be able to hear me. Would I be able to shout loud enough?**

**[*skipped a paragraph*not relevant*added a couple of sentences in following paragraph*]**

**The rain continued, and I could feel the water pooling up against my cheek. Or was that my blood? I wasn't sure. I was trying to gather the strength to turn my head when I saw the light.**

**At first it was just a dim glow reflecting off the bushes in the distance. It grew brighter and brighter, illuminating a large space unlike the focused beam of a flashlight. The light broke through the closest brush, and I could see that it was a propane lantern, but that was all I could see - the brightness blinded me for a moment.**

**End of Excerpt**

"_**Bella?**_**" a familiar voice said, shocked. "Oh my god, **_**Bella**_**!" The light came closer to me and I could tell that whoever was holding it was scanning it over my body to see if I was hurt. The light fixated on my face, trailing over my arms, wrists and hands that were lying on the forest floor. The figure paused. "**_**SHIT! What the FUCK happened to you?**_**" The figure knelt down and I could see his face in the light from the lantern. It was Jacob Black. Come to rescue me, I guess. Charlie must've been really worried if he'd sent people to look for me. I had no idea how long I'd been gone.**

**I watched Jacob's face as his eyes caught on the pocket knife on the forest floor that was still opened. The blade was covered in my blood. He gasped audibly and turned his face away for a moment. **

"**Oh god, I have to get you to a doctor."**

**Jacob's POV**

I'd been looking for three hours. The note Bella had left on the counter said she'd taken a walk in the woods with the Cullen boy, but why couldn't we find her? When Charlie had called my dad, I insisted on going. He didn't want me to, for some reason, saying it probably wouldn't take long to find her, but I had a bad feeling. I got a ride from Quil, who'd been hanging out with me at the house at the time, and we headed straight up. After an hour of searching, I was sure something bad had happened. I'd hung out at the house with Charlie for the first half-hour or so. We were both pacing back and forth in the kitchen by the phone, waiting for it to ring and someone to say she'd been found. I couldn't take it anymore, so I went out to help. I had to do something. I couldn't just stay in the kitchen. It was stifling me. I felt like I was choking.

We searched those woods for what felt like forever. When it started to get dark, we'd all reconvened at the house to get all the available flashlights and lanterns we could find before setting out again. Some people paired up in twos or threes, but I knew I would move faster and cover more ground if I was alone. After searching through the dark woods for a couple more hours, I noticed something lying on the ground floor. When I got closer, I could make out the still form of a person lying curled up on their side. I quickened my pace, and stopped cold when my lantern lit up the face of the person lying there. It was Bella, as I knew it would be.

"_Bella? _Oh my god, _Bella!_"

I went closer to her and let the light from the lantern pass over her, trying to visually check if she had any injuries. I couldn't see any at first. Only when the light hit her head, and her arms, wrists, and hands that were lying on the ground beside it, did I make out the blood. Torrents of it. Pouring out of her wrist and over her hands and upper arms. _SHIT! What the FUCK happened to you?"_

I knelt down beside her still body to examine her wrists closer. I looked around, trying to figure out what she had cut herself on so badly. My eyes lit upon a pocket knife lying on the ground beside her. It was opened. And it was covered in her blood. I gasped and looked away for a moment, cursing silently to myself. I picked up the knife, shut it, and shoved it in my pocket.

"Oh god, I have to get you to get you to a doctor."

I took off my shirt and ripped it into two strips. I wrapped one tightly around each of her wrists, trying to stem the flow of the bleeding. Then I scooped her up in my arms, staggering a little bit as I got up, and picked up the lantern with a couple of fingers. Then I began to run. I ran as fast as I could, which was decently fast. After a few minutes, our surroundings started to brighten and I knew we were nearing the edge of the forest. When we broke through the trees, I could see a swarm of people, and the lights of the couple of police cruisers that had arrived were lit up brightly.

"_I'VE GOT HER!"_ I yelled at the top of my voice. I was a little out of breath. At once, everyone looked at us as I ran towards the crowd. They began running towards me as well.

I recognized Charlie pushing his way to the front of the crowd. He was running the fastest and made it to us first. He took her out of my arms and hurried towards the house. The crowd of people parted to let us through. When we got closer to the house, and the light from the house and the cruisers illuminated us, Charlie noticed the pieces of my shirt that I'd wrapped around her wrists. He stopped in his tracks and turned to me with a confused look on his face.

"What's wrong with her wrists?" he asked me in a low undertone. His voice was scared and slightly panicky.

"This was beside her when I found her in the woods." I pulled the pocket knife out of my pocket, and slipped it to him as sneakily as possible. I was well aware of the people around us, watching. "Charlie . . . I'm pretty sure she cut herself. It's . . . pretty bad." I could hear my voice break a little bit. "I think she needs a doctor. Right away."

Charlie looked shocked. We both looked on as splotches began to appear on the outside of the fabric. The blood was running so much it was seeping through. At that moment, I saw Bella go limp in Charlie's arms. She'd fainted. Charlie beat me to the punch.

"_Somebody call an ambulance!_"

**Charlie's POV**

God, how long had it been since Bella had been missing? Three? Four? Why couldn't we find her? I knew I should go out there and help look, but I couldn't make my feet do anything besides pace back and forth in the kitchen, waiting for the phone to ring. Someone _had_ to find her. I mean . . . how big was that damn forest, anyway?

I heard a shout from outside. It sounded like Jacob's voice. I bolted out the door as quickly as I could, only to see the figure of Jacob running towards me, carrying someone in his arms. I pushed my way through the crowd that was already beginning to run towards him. He wasn't wearing his shirt, which I found odd. I reached them first and took Bella out of Jacob's arms, turning to run towards the house. Everyone parted to let us through. Jacob followed me towards the house. Bella looked dazed and exhausted. I hurried as fast as I could, wanting to get her inside as fast as I could. When we got closer to the house, the lights from inside and the police cruisers illuminated us. I noticed some cloth wrapped around Bella's arms. I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at Jacob.

"What's wrong with her wrists?" I asked him in an undertone. My voice came out a lot more scared and panicky than I would've liked, but I couldn't seem to be able to control anything at the moment. I was even starting to feel a little dizzy, but I pushed the sensation back as strongly as I could. I couldn't afford to lose it right now.

"This was beside her when I found her in the woods," Jacob said to me quietly. He slipped something into my hand, and I could tell by the cold handle that it was some kind of pocket knife. I think he was as aware as I was of all the people around us watching. "Charlie . . . I'm pretty sure she cut herself. It's . . . pretty bad." His voice broke a little bit. I think she needs a doctor. Right away."

I knew the shock I was feeling showed clearly on my face. I looked down at Bella. As I looked at her, I noticed splotches begin to appear on the outside of the fabric covering her wrists. At that moment, Bella went limp in my arms. She'd fainted.

"_Somebody call an ambulance!_"

Someone ran inside to use the phone. I don't even know who it was. I laid Bella down on the ground and got down on my knees beside her. She was lifeless and, I could tell even by the insignificant light we were seeing by, more pale than usual. I had no idea how long she'd lain bleeding in the woods, but I knew just by looking at her that she'd lost . . . _so_ much blood. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Not my Bella. _Not my daughter._

I placed my hand on her forehead. It was clammy and beaded with sweat. "Bella?" I said to her. I shook her shoulder a little bit. "Bella, speak to me. Come on, baby, you've got to wake up. Come on, baby, _please!_" I was vaguely aware of Jacob kneeling down beside me, even more vaguely aware that a few tears were running down his face. But he didn't say anything. I don't think he was even capable of it.

It seemed to take an eternity for the ambulance to come screaming down the street and up the driveway. Two ambulance workers rushed out of the back of the truck, bringing a stretcher with them, to where we were situated on the ground. They got on the other side of her. The lifted her together onto the stretcher, strapping her in. After pulling the stretcher to its standing position, they began to wheel her quickly to the ambulance. Jacob and I followed, half-running, both of us almost in a daze. We left the crowd of people behind and got into the back of the ambulance behind the workers after they'd loaded Bella up. One of them shut the door behind us and we were on our way.

They immediately hooked her up to tubes and monitors. Her heart rate was really slow.

"Can either of you tell me what happened?"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't even open my mouth. It was like my lips were glued together. My mind was on hyper drive, but in slow motion at the same time. It felt like when Renee had left me . . . only ten thousand times worse . . . .

I think Jacob sensed that I was having trouble speaking. He looked at the EMTs and said, "She went into the woods with her boyfriend - the Cullen boy." His voice was hoarse, and it sounded like he was trying desperately to control the anguish in it.

"Which one?" the other one asked, interrupting. He pulled a small notepad and a pen from off one of the seats, like he was an officer taking notes.

"Um . . . Edwin . . . I think?"

"_Edward_," I snarled out. He had been with my daughter in the woods. If he'd had anything to do with this, I swore right then I would kill him.

"Yeah, Edward," Jacob continued. "When she didn't come back, Charlie called a few people to help him search. We looked for hours. When it got dark we got lanterns and flashlights and kept looking. I found her lying on the ground. She was bleeding really bad from her wrists. I found a pocket knife on the ground. It . . . It was _covered_ in her blood. I put it in my pocket, and then gave it to Charlie when we got back to the house. I'm pretty sure she used it to . . . to cut herself." He looked down, his words breaking off, like he couldn't go on. I knew how he felt.

"Can we have the knife please, Chief? We need to make sure it doesn't have any rust or anything on it. She could get a deadly infection if it did."

I pulled the knife out of my pocket where I'd unconsciously put it. It was like I was on auto-pilot. I had no idea how Bella could do this. She'd never done anything remotely like this. I just . . . couldn't understand it.

I handed the knife to the EMT, and he put it in a plastic zip lock bag. Then he put it on the seat. "What happened after that?"

"I . . . uh . . . I saw the bleeding on her arms, so I took off my shirt and ripped it in half so I could wrap her wrists up. I did it the best I could. Then I just picked her up and ran back to the house with her as fast as I could. He took her from me then we headed to the house. He noticed her wrists and asked me what was wrong with them. I told him, then she fainted in his arms. He yelled for someone to call an ambulance, then laid her on the ground. He tried to wake her up, but . . . it didn't work. That's when you guys showed up."

All the time Jacob had been talking, while the one EMT was taking down notes (so he could tell a doctor, no doubt), I'd been watching the other EMT very slowly and carefully peel the pieces of Jacob's shirt away from Bella's wrists. When he finally got them off, I almost fainted right there. The blood painted her skin, but I could still see where she'd cut herself twice on both arms. I could tell the cuts were deep. A sob escaped my throat, and I reached out to brush the sweaty hair from where it'd fallen across her forehead. She was still clammy. "Can we get her a blanket please?"

"We need to get these bandaged better first, Chief. Besides, we're almost at the hospital. She's lost a lot of blood, but by the look of the positions of the cuts, I think she's going to be okay."

The only thing I grasped out of what he said was "she's going to be okay". I couldn't comprehend more than that. I let out a sigh of relief, but I was still sobbing, the tears starting to run in torrents down my cheeks.

We screamed into the emergency entrance of the hospital, and the sirens cut off with an ominous silence.

**Hope you like it. I'm doing my best here, lol. Let me know, good or bad. I love my reviews. ****J**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03**

**Jacob's POV**

She looked so helpless . . . lying there in the stark white of the hospital room. _Everything _seemed to be white: from the curtains on the windows; to the floor, ceiling, and walls; even down to the sheet and pillowcase on the bed. She was hooked up to tubes and monitors. Her eyes were closed, and if we'd been in a different setting it would have looked like she was just taking a nap. But she wasn't. The monitors were beeping annoyingly, and one of the tubes was bright red as blood from a transfusion was dripped into her still body.

It was early morning, 3:46 a.m. (I looked at the clock). I'd been sitting here, in a chair beside her bed, since they'd brought her into the recovery room and hour and twenty-seven minutes before. Counting the seconds, minutes, hours was the only way I was able to keep my sanity right now. If I didn't focus my mind on something besides the reason I was here, I knew I would go completely insane. Is that what had happened to Bella? Had something in her snapped, and that's why she'd just . . . lost it like that? I didn't know. I didn't know how long it would be until I _did_ know, or even if I would ever find out. Bella wasn't awake to ask, and she wasn't showing signs of waking anytime soon.

The light in the room was dim, just one light in the corner turned on. The nurses had wanted to make sure she was able to sleep. They'd given me condescending looks at first, until they got a good look at my face. Consequently, they'd been coming in every so often to ask me if I needed anything, a drink or something to eat maybe. I said no to everything. I didn't think my stomach could take even a sip of water right now.

I heard voices outside the slightly open door. I couldn't hear what they were saying, they were mumbling, so I got up from the chair and leaned against the wall beside the door so I could hear them better. I peeked around the corner quickly. It was Charlie and a doctor in a white doctor's coat. I pulled myself back against the wall to listen.

The doctor spoke first. "We had to give her a blood transfusion. She's lost quite a bit of blood. We also put her on an antibiotic, just in case anything came in contact with that knife before she used it. We didn't find anything besides the usual amount of germs, but we want to be careful. Infections are always the deadliest things we deal with in the hospital, as hard as that is to believe. When she wakes up, we have a psychiatrist ready and willing to talk to her, to see maybe if this was her first time, or even a one-time-thing. We don't want this to continue. We can admit her to a rehabilitation facility, if you would like, or you can take her home when she has recovered. It is ultimately up to you, and Bella of course, but I would strongly suggest you admit her to a facility. Just to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Dr. Gerandy . . . I don't want to put her in a . . . a . . . _mental hospital_. Not right away, anyway. I can't do that to Bella. I'll take her home. I can take care of her."

"If that's what you want," the doctor said, a slight note of skepticism in his voice. "She is lucky, though."

"How the hell do you call this lucky?"

"She only hit a very small artery. She missed all her major and vital ones, so we know she wasn't aiming to kill herself. If she was, this could have been a lot worse. Normally, in situations like this, the cuts are vertical, not horizontal like Bella's. The norm, when the cuts are horizontal, is the patient is only trying to release some emotional pain by inflicting physical pain on themselves. When they cut, their bodies release endorphins that sort of . . . "take over" the brain so they can forget about their emotional turmoil for a little while. I have a strong suspicion that this is what Bella was trying to do."

Both of them were silent for a few minutes, before Charlie spoke again. [NM Ch. 3 Pg. 79] "Is it true?" he whispered. "Did they leave?"

"Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything," Dr. Gerandy answered. "The offer was very sudden; they had to choose immediately. Carlisle didn't want to make a big production out of leaving."

"A little warning might have been nice," Charlie grumbled.

Dr. Gerandy sounded uncomfortable when he replied. "Yes, well, in this situation, some warning might have been called for."

I didn't want to listen anymore. [End of Excerpt] I walked back over to my chair and flopped down in it, as quietly as I could. There was a soft _whumpf _as I landed in it. A few minutes later I heard the door squeak quietly as someone opened it. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Charlie come in, looking tired. He rubbed the bridge of his nose like he had a headache or something, then came over to me.

He put his hand on my shoulder and then whispered, "Can I talk to you outside for a minute, Jake?"

I nodded, not being able to make my mouth work to say anything, got up from the chair, and followed him out into the hallway. We left the door cracked a little, just in case Bella woke up while we were gone.

He rubbed a hand over the top of his head, looking down at the floor. "You okay, son?"

Was I okay? Was I _okay_? _Hell_ no. I was so far from okay right now, I didn't even know what "okay" meant. I just shook my head, though, shrugging.

"This must be pretty hard on you. You finding her, and all."

I just shrugged again. I still couldn't make my mouth work. It was like my voice box had dried up, a desert wasteland.

"If you . . . uh . . . ever need to talk to someone . . . ."

I stopped him right there. I could see what it was costing him to say this, worrying about me when all he wanted to do was worry about his daughter. "Thanks, Charlie, but I'll be alright. Don't worry about me. Let's just worry about Bella. I'll be fine."

He nodded his head (by the looks of it he didn't know what else to say), and went into Bella's room. I watched him walk slowly over to her bed, sit down in a chair, and take Bella's hand. I couldn't look anymore at the . . . broken man in front of me. I turned around and walked the long hallways to the elevator. I took it down to the ground floor and walked outside. There was a breeze blowing, but it didn't even feel good to me. I walked along the outside wall of the hospital, and came to an alcove. I slid down the brick until I was sitting on the hard cement sidewalk. I pulled my knees up to my chest, crossed my arms, and laid my head down on them.

The tears came without me even realizing it. I couldn't seem to make them stop, either. What was going to happen to Bella? I hadn't even gotten much of a chance to know her, but already the thought of anything else happening to her was ripping my insides to shreds. I didn't think I could take it if . . . if she didn't . . . make it. The thought itself was agony.

_Bella . . . . _

**Bella's POV**

I didn't get to come home for a week. Dr. Gerandy wanted to make sure I was okay, emotionally as well as physically. He'd sent in a psychiatrist to talk to me, but I had nothing to say. How could I justify what I had done to this judgmental person who probably thought I was crazy? I didn't say anything to the tall, thin, blonde-haired person, carrying a notepad and pen. Her makeup and newly-painted nails were flawless, and looked like the type of person who'd never experienced anything worse than a broken nail.

I had nothing to say to this condescending bitch.

I know I was being mean and rude, even if it _was_ only in my mind. But I didn't care. I didn't care about much of anything anymore.

I heard the lady talking to my dad outside my hospital room door. She wanted Charlie to admit me into a _facility_ - her word, not mine - but Charlie was adamant - he wasn't going to do that to me. _Not yet_. This time they were _his_ words, not hers. He wanted to take me home, thinking the familiar surroundings would help pull me out of my depression. They'd at least agreed on one thing there - I was depressed. They were stupid. _Depressed_ didn't _begin_ to cover it. Not in the least.

I hadn't said a word since they'd admitted me into the hospital. Charlie told me I'd been unconscious for a few days. My wrists were still bandaged but my wounds were already pretty much healed up. Even now, even seeing how much I had hurt Charlie by what I had done, I couldn't bring it in myself to regret what I'd done. It had been the only thing I could do at the time to keep me from going completely crazy.

Some people would argue that what I had done _made_ me a crazy person, but someone in the same situation as me would probably understand completely.

The drive home was silent, but it wasn't the comfortable silence Charlie and I usually shared. This was one strained and stressed. Neither of us could bring ourselves to break it, however, and that was fine with me. When we got to the house, I got silently out of the car, not even bothering to grab the small bag of things Charlie had brought for me. They could rot in his backseat for all I cared. He got it, though, and followed me just as silently through the front door. It was unlocked. There was nothing in Forks that could hurt us - at least not anything that would be deterred by a locked door.

I didn't stop to talk to Charlie; I didn't even wait for him to get in the house. I headed straight up the stairs and into my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I turned around and stared at the room. So much _his_ as it was mine.

[Excerpt, NM Ch. 3 The End, Pg. 83-84]

Everything looked exactly the same as I'd left it. I pressed down on the top of the CD player. The latch unhooked, the lid slowly swung open.

It was empty.

The album Renée had given me sat on the floor beside the bed, just where I'd put it last. I lifted the cover with a shaking hand.

I didn't have to flip farther than the first page. The little metal corners no longer held a picture in place. The page was blank except for my own handwriting scrawled across the bottom: _Edward Cullen, Charlie's kitchen, Sept. 13th__._

I stopped there. I was sure that he would have been very thorough.

_It will be as if I'd never existed_, he'd promised me.

I felt the smooth wooden floor beneath my knees, and then the palms of my hands, and then it was pressed against the skin of my cheek. I hoped that I was fainting, but, to my disappointment, I didn't lose consciousness. The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under.

I did not resurface.

I woke up on the floor. I knew it had to be the middle of the night, because the it was pitch black outside except for the pale white moon. I turned away from it, not able to look at it. The color reminded me too much of _him_.

He had taken everything of him away from me, everything except my memories. There had to be something I could do that would keep him from disappearing completely. Because I knew, even though I would always remember him, I wouldn't remember everything. Even now, the sound of his voice was slipping away, and I knew it wouldn't take my devastatingly human brain long to forget the beauty of his face. I had to etch his name in me, never letting it go.

Maybe I could go one step farther than that, though. Maybe I could keep a physical representation of him, even if I couldn't keep my material representations.

It had worked once, hadn't it? What I had done in the woods . . . it had taken the pain away once. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . it would work again.

I slid myself across the floor and pulled myself to my feet using the knob on my door. I tiptoed catlike down the stairs to the kitchen, remembering to skip the one that creaked; I didn't want to wake Charlie. He would be so disappointed with me (more so) if he caught me at what I was doing. Which is why I wasn't going to stay in the kitchen while I did it. That would be a mistake. I would tiptoe into the kitchen. Grab the knife - my favorite one, with the blade that never seemed to get dull. Sneak back up to my bedroom. Lock the door behind me. Tiptoe back into my bed. Pull the covers up over myself. And draw out my pain again.

It was surprisingly easy. Charlie didn't even break his snores once.

When I got back into my bed, I didn't even hesitate. I put the knife in my right hand. I placed it against my left forearm.

_E._

The blood intoxicated me, even while the smell of it made me nauseous.

_D._

_Edward _(I let myself think his name, knowing I wasn't going to succumb to the urge to utter it ever again), _you left me . . . . How could you leave me, and take everything I have of you? My human memories will fade, and you had to have known that . . . . How cruel are you really?_

_W._

_I can't act like you never existed. You had to have known how impossible that would be for me to. My mind has been set for a long time now. How could you think I would just be able to forget about it all? Forget about you?_

I switched the knife to my left hand. I placed the blade to my right forearm.

_A._

_Like you never existed? How could you be so obtuse? How could you think that I would ever forget you? How could you think you could never exist in my thoughts? In my world?_

_R._

_This is the only way I can keep you now. Even though I know it's wrong, I can't stop. I don't want to. You've taken everything of you away from me, right down to the pictures, and the love you left for me in a cd. Would it have been so bad to leave them here for me? Would that have been so awful? _

_D._

_What did I do to make you want to leave? Why did you suddenly decide I wasn't good enough for you? Why couldn't you have decided that before I got so . . . _involved _with you? I love you, Edward . . . . Don't leave me . . . . Please . . . . _

It was a fruitless thing to ask for. It would never happen. He had already left me. In fact, if I was honest with myself, I'd never really had him in the first place.

I held my arms straight out in front of me, so I could gaze upon my handiwork.

E A

D R

W D

I would never be able to forget him now, no matter how much my memories faded. I wouldn't be able to even wash my hands without seeing his name anymore. The thought comforted me. There was nothing else I could do.

He would never completely leave me now.

I tiptoed into the bathroom, making sure no blood dripped onto the carpets. I had to get this bandaged. I could never let Charlie see this; I'd be damned if he tried to put me back in the hospital. I locked the door to the bathroom just in case, and turned to the sink. First I ran my arms underneath the faucet to get rid of any excess blood. It was still oozing out of my arms, but not nearly so bad as it had in the woods. After that, I patted the wounds dry and got the gauze out of the medicine cabinet. After wrapping it around my forearms completely, I secured them with tape. I would have to wear long sleeves from now on. It wouldn't be much of an obstacle here in Forks, though, where it hardly ever got warm.

I cleaned up the bathroom, flushing the blood-soaked toilet paper down the toilet and putting everything away. I might have just gotten a tampon and peed. Charlie would never know - I hoped. No. I would make sure I never hurt him again with the knowledge of what I had to do to keep myself sane. He didn't need to go insane by knowing. He was safer in the dark.

I tiptoed back to my bedroom. I wiped the knife off on the inside of my pajama pants. They were thick sweats, so they wouldn't stain on the outside. I slipped the knife between the mattress and the box spring, by the wall. Charlie never cleaned my room or did the laundry, so he wouldn't have a clue.

I smiled to myself as I was able to drift into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
